I don't know if you're allowed to make two posts in the same day. I don't know if it makes you uncool, but it's a risk I'm willing to take since I can't get something off my mind.
I dated a guy a while back, we'll call him Chuck. He was one of those guys who didn't speak unless he had something worth saying and if you took your time to really talk to him he could really benefit your life. I say really because he didn't like the artificial bull-shit kind of talk.
"Hey! How are ya?"
"You going to school?"
"Where are you living?"
It just didn't cut it. No one really cares where you're going to school or who you're dating, or quite frankly how you are. The reason I'm blogging about...Chuck is because I have this haunting memory of us. Before I dive into that, it's important that you know I have never met a person who wrote more than Chuck. He journaled everything. Every thing good and I'm guessing everything bad. One day we were sitting on my couch and he mentioned something about wondering if once he died anyone would know anything about him. Would they know that he lived? Would they know of him and I? Would they know the good things? That day I opened up my journal (it had been a couple months) and began to write of the memories I've had of him.
I don't know how many other people feel underappreciated but Chuck was one of the people I have met in my life that I find most valuble to me as a person. I feel like I have been changed for the better for knowing him and having real conversations with him. Anyone lucky enough to meet someone as special as him let them know because there will come a time when it's too late.
Thank you Chuck.